


Loopholes and Needle Eyes

by peoriapeoria



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: Forced Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's dead. These are the gambits that unfold as what is to be is woven out of what paths have been taken.</p><p>Story contains Ghost Story spoilers. I won't be reading further in canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A technicality. It all hinges on a technicality.

Miracles are technicalities, where belief reweaves the universe, not against the rules, but to a pattern that isn't obvious. Some miracles are jolting, they are like a flare. Those are rare, now, because those miracles are thought to break the laws of nature. This age likes subtle miracles, where one has to believe to see that they are miracles.

The wizard hired a hit man. He hired one that owed him, one that wasn't wholly mortal, one that was bound by his promise. One that could sympathize with being caught in a net and knew there were fates worse than death.

This wasn't one. Harry had been led astray, had been brought to make a choice that if it was choice doomed him, took him off the board.

If it had been true, then his choice wasn't a sin, and it didn't doom him. This opened a technicality, it was a loophole. This allowed giving him a chance to reel himself out of his maze before he was consumed, expelled from play.

He'd wronged his friends, his apprentice, his killer, he had marked people that had thought themselves past being moved. Those couldn't be undone, those weren't technicalities. He could have seen those coming if he'd cared at the time.

Molly was compromised. She had paved her road, not to hell, but it was with good intentions a slippery slope was laid and slicked with blood. Refuge in Winter was her only escape from the White Council.

Harry was her bond, and he had pushed, and so he too had to go to Winter. The same Winter he'd sought to escape. He took with him the ember the lie had sought to extinguish.

He still had Free Will. He might be tempted, sorely tempted, but he could not be forced, he was not a puppet. Oh, he was subject. There was play in his bonds, so he could choose, though that might be between bad and worse.

\--------------------

John Marcone is many things. He has done enough that heaven cannot want him and the devil is afraid of him. This, and his preparation has kept him alive well past his deserving. He has learned something. He still has a heart, and pretending he doesn't makes no difference. He's been compromised, so he might as well take the sweet with the bitter, the balm against the burn.

He steals Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. He doesn't look back, he doesn't eat or drink, he steals his Wizard from Winter's Maw. It takes time for Harry to accept his capture, his liberation. John makes no secret of why he's dared. He calls it an elopement.

One kiss. That is their consummation. Harry brings his fingers to his lips. It is the most innocent thing John has seen. "Hendricks will take you where you want to go."

"What?"

Harry's apartment is gone. John has relocated his landlady and the couple Harry saved. He had remade the neighborhood in his grief, brought in businesses, rehabilitated buildings. There is a castle where the house had been.

"You are under no obligation. I would appreciate it if you stay in Chicago and that you inform me if you journey away. Let Hendricks know your requirements."

"You..."

Yes. He walked away from his husband.


	2. Chapter 2

Mortals have free will. It's what makes them so powerful despite their very real weaknesses. Unlike the Sidhe who bargin shrewdly, and the vampires that use more gross methods of control, my employer has self-imposed limits.

Amanda didn't have to be in the park that day. It could have been anyone there or no one where the bullet flew, Marco could have aimed true. Gentle John, who'd earned that sobriquet killing his opposites cleanly, didn't have to take Vargassi's operation. He could have left Chicago; instead he seized Chicago and became Gentleman Johnny.

Foretold doesn't mean preordained.


	3. Chapter 3

I looked at Hendricks. Marcone had kissed me and walked away. I touched my mouth again; he'd come for me in Winter and brought me back from the Nevernever.

"Car's this way."

I followed, confused. I didn't have anywhere to go. Why come after me only to turn me loose? He'd wanted to make me his when we first met. Make me his Wizard. I think. I'd have never expected him rescuing me. Elopement.

Hendricks must have had a contingency plan because after driving for awhile we arrived somewhere. I opened the door before Hendricks could. Condos. I looked at him, looked at the car. "What will the neighbors think?"

He didn't answer, just led me up a private stair, one formed with a storage space underneath. East windows. I could tell I was bringing down the real estate values just by being here. Inside was not what I'd have expected; it looked cozy with dark chairs and a long leather couch with arms almost as high as the back, autumnal colored rugs distinguishing the different areas and an exposed kitchenette.

"I'm going to burn out that fridge."

"Inscribed circle."

So there was. I could see an arc anyway scorched into the old wood floor. "Why?" He didn't answer, just handed me a ring of keys and let himself out. Besides the main room, there was a bedroom (presumably the old cloakroom) with a huge pulldown bed and a bathroom. I rifled through various drawers and cupboards. Flatware, kitchen towels and dishrags, playing cards, chess, backgammon and a few board games, t-shirts, sweatpants, socks, a bathrobe. I took down a plate and opened the fridge. Fancy lunch meat sealed, unopened mustard and mayo, and a loaf of sourdough, pre-sliced. Box of butter.

I fixed myself a meal and took it over to the couch. What was I going to do? Molly was still in Winter, doomed by my insistence. My own safety was somewhat in question, though maybe the White Council would think better than to annoy me. They were still reeling from Peabody.

I needed Bob, Bob who was with Butters. I wasn't ready to be seen by my friends. I had hurt them so badly. I had thought I'd had no choice. I'd always had had a choice; they might all be bad ones but that still was a choice.

Is that what Marcone's walking away was, him making a choice that was distasteful and yet other than that the best of a bad lot? I touched my lips. I was missing something.

I made myself a sandwich. Don't even think it. Ate my meal, took a shower, went to bed.

In the morning, light spilled in from the high window. I hadn't had a window in my bedroom and yet this did remind me of my basement. I jangled. It was the only way I could describe the feeling. Maybe it was like the pins and needles of a limb that had gone to sleep when it awoke. I got up, ignoring the feeling that I should be pulled back to bed.

I needed Bob. Butters would be getting back from work shortly. I needed to let my friends know I was back, otherwise they'd overwhelm Butters. I called Murphy first, pleading that I had a lot of calls to make and would talk to her more later. I rang the Carpenters next, since I had wronged them the most. It was, uncomfortable. I think there is something I'm supposed to know that I don't. I called Hendricks next as I'd not seen anything like money or transit tickets. I called Thomas, left a message.

There was no coke in the fridge. There was tea and roasted coffee beans in the cabinet, obscure implements in the drawers and on the counter. I fried eggs and bacon, slapped it between some bread.

The phone rang and I looked out the window. While it was a different car than last night, there is a certain something that mob cars hold in common. That and Hendricks behind the wheel made it obvious my ride was here.

I got in quickly after loping down the stair, still eating my breakfast.

There was a bottle in the backseat. A green, flared bottle. "What's with the Spanish?"

"Sugarcane."

I popped the cap with a bit of Force and drank. Ate, sipping from the Coca-Cola. Fat, sugar, caffeine. What was John's game? I knew there was one, but Bells if I could figure it out.

Then, I was there. I got out, went to Butter's door.

I had a polka fan plastered to me. What was this weird sensation? I eased him back and that made things better and yet colder. "Thanks, good to be back."

He was a little sheepish, and he showed me to Bob.

"Who's the lucky-- what are you doing here? This is why mortals shouldn't meddle in the affairs of Wizards. You'll have to tell me, Egyptian cotton or silk. Go!"

Bob was acting strange, stranger than normal. You know what I mean.

"You're tied to him. It's a slender thread though, one that cuts without warning. One kiss. Take a honeymoon. Harry. This is important. You're married."

"To the Mob?" I had been dead, and I'd been Winter's Knight. I totally had reason to be slow.

"Let him go down on you. He'll take you apart piece by piece, slow, he'll take his time, make you see stars, speak tongues. Tongues."

"He's the one that walked away."

"You let him. Harry, this is dangerous, downed power line dangerous. Go. Get. Naked. We're talking flesh of your flesh, two bodies made one. It's more than that, though. It's too easy for you to get hurt, depending on a kiss. Two weeks. Stay in bed, naked, doesn't have to be in bed, details, I'll need details, let him go down on you, open you up-"

"Stop!" I was hard. I halted my fingers from touching my lips.

"Go to him. Return his kiss, see where that takes you."

I knew where that would lead. I, Susan had been a long time ago, Luccio... I almost, I'd set up, not knowing I'd placed a hit on myself; I'm so glad I fell into the water, but the boat had to have been bad enough for Murphy. There went that inconvenience.

Next thing I knew I was getting out of a car. No, I didn't lose time; I called Hendricks, got into the car (he must have been circling the block, or whatever). I wouldn't have expected John to be at the mansion.

He'd been lured there. I had seen enough. Bob was right, this was dangerous. "Why?"

John looked at me, confused. I think it was my favorite of his expressions. "Why would you love me?" Speechless. I had rendered him speechless. I kissed him. He made love to my mouth. I joined him.

"I want to see you," he purred.

I should have worn sweat pants, but I'd just been going to Butters'. "You first."

He grabbed my hand and took me into, a den? a parlor?, locked the door and unknotted his tie, unbuttoned his shirt. I peeled off the long-sleeved tee.

"May I?"

I was confused and assented. He touched me. Just below my collar bone, his fingertips smoothed over my skin. I thought about his hand on my cock. I kissed him, rocked against him. He caught me by the hips, stilled me, pulled back so we brushed together. I might have thought it had to do with his age if I couldn't feel his interest. I pulled back a bit, looked him in the eyes. They weren't the faded green of old dollar bills, but baize green. John sat and brought me onto the couch with him. What had just happened?

"Did you come here out of obligation?"

It wasn't what I expected to hear, to have John say. "You're the one that brought me back and walked away. Funny way to express love." I'm not subtle.

"Answer the question, if you would." John however is.

"You aren't clueless and you did it anyway. No, this isn't obligation, this is self-preservation. You tied us together; sleep in the bed you've made."

"Sleeping isn't the only use for beds." John didn't seem to have much use for a bed, though I did put my foot down on that before he pulled my zipper down. He might have gotten distracted a few times or maybe that was me.

"Is this what a Gentleman does? Don't answer, take me to a bedroom before showning me any more of a good time." I should have gotten suspicious at his smile. He hoisted me up onto his shoulder and took the stairs at a run. I think he was still at a resting heartrate when we landed on the bed. I was winded, and I'd hardly caught my breath before he'd pulled down my zipper. It fled again as he went down on me with a single-minded will. That is just as heady as it sounds; he looked me in the eyes and charmed me thoroughly and utterly. He kept finding new gears to shift me into, drove me like I was stolen. He used my hands as his own to fret, pluck and otherwise coax the last measure from me. John reeled my climax, swallowed, gentled me into my afterglow and came. He's heavy. I think this must be what the gold in a dragon's hoard feels like. I scratched at his scalp and I didn't imagine the rumble reverberating in my chest.

John propped himself up and patted my belly. Guess it wasn't all him purring. I tried hushing my stomach, but John still got up. He came back out, still naked, nude, clean, bearing a washcloth, a hot washcloth. Somehow he got back into his trousers and shirt, zipped and rebuttoned, while teasing, cleaning and promising me things terrycloth shouldn't be capable of conveying.

"I'll bring food." That's what he said as he pulled back from the kiss. He left and I was still working out what his mouth tasted like besides nothing like me. It wasn't enough distraction. Does the treasure wonder while the wyrm is away? I thought about putting on my jeans, or just the boxers and decided against either. He'd come after me through the Nevernever, so he could deal with my less decorative self. I went snooping.

You learn a lot in someone's bathroom. The fact that I could brew some pretty effective potions just from his grooming products and there was enough room away from the run of the water pipes to do so... Crime paid. I used the facilities, found a wrapped toothbrush and carefully wound the toothpaste for a dab. I didn't care for the mirror, though it had been guarded, and not by a rental Valkyrie. She used runes.

I'd been on the property before, but three flavors of werewolf had been taxing enough not to get a good look at much more than the tigertrap. Over the years I've done some pretty strange research, and I realized that this building had been overhauled to look like it had always been better than a McMansion. It still had an air of a set, but one well-dressed.

Marcone had come back with food. John. Stars' Bells. "What's your real name?"

"I was called Gino."

How long had it been since he was? I looked at what he'd brought. "What army did you ride in on?"

"Eat." John took off his shirt again, unbuttoning even the little buttons on the sleeves, turning it inside out. He emptied his pockets, two handkerchiefs. No change, no moneyclip. He took off his watch and shed his pants again, pulling the cuffs through the legs. I was surprised at him kissing my shoulder. He helped himself to food while I fell on it. I hadn't had much appetite as Winter's Knight.

If he didn't have a bellybutton John could be Adam before the Fall. I kept the Steve quip tamped down. I was envious of his abs. My brother was a Greek god, Axe, but John-- I kissed him. The Red Court was dead. John was mortal. A signatory--shit.

"Harry?"

"You didn't just restart the Trojan War?"

"All forms have been maintained."

That was the difference between us. He snubbed within the rules, while I wiped my nose on them. Chicago was lucky she didn't have to invent John. I was lucky I'd been freed, even if it was into the frying pan.

"You built a castle."

"A keep at best. Your lighthouse is more impressive."

I felt a tug. The genius loci and Mab had watched over my body while my soul Wandered. I would have to visit soon; I would need to talk to Thomas, I think this might be worse than staining a sweater. I yawned.

I was tucked in before I could figure out how John moved. He went to sleep on me. Out like a light. Having a moment of self-preservation I let the sleeping Don lie and surrendered onto sleep.

I wasn't quite awake. I was warm, something smelled good, I nuzzled, drifted. The moaning brought me up. Not because it was loud, I doubt I could have heard it if my attestedly thick skull hadn't been pressed against its source. I wasn't in bed with Luccio though the words were Italian. Breaths. It came crashing down on me, John's erection in my hand, nipple in my mouth, leather glove dragging over his chest hair. His hands were in my hair and on my arm. I opened my hand and pushed up.

His fingertips stilled me. His hand I would have fought, his grip broken. He pressed a kiss to my back, then another, drew me back against him cheek against my neck. Heat was radiating from his insistent hard-on. He just held me and I filled. I pulled one of his hands onto me, squeezing him around me to blunt the edge. The Red Court was dead. Susan was dead. I hadn't wanted to kill her, I shouldn't have killed her. I killed my daughter's mother. I have a daughter. I didn't know. They took my daughter and she was so scared and I killed Susan to save her. Killed Susan to save my worthless hide, that I'd already staked and put a hit on.

"You should fix that leak in the roof." John didn't gainsay me or let go of my cock, got me a cloth for my face. Organized. I reached back for his, giving it a stroke. I didn't much do this to myself. He guided me to turn, pulled me over him. His kisses are lethal. I meshed our mouths together, he grabbed my boney ass. He's got more than two hands. That shouldn't be erotic, but he's, fucking fuck fucker.

Impossible. I resurface spent and he looks like he owns Fort Knox. John is impossible. We're sticky. He's still fondling my ass, though his other hand is in my hair. There might have been a panic attack. Retching. I made it to the bathroom. Damn bidet.

"Swish this." He handed me a tumbler he'd poured a few drops into and filled from a spigot. I swished a mouthful, spit, then gargled the next swig because I'm crass like that. How does he look comfortable in just his skin? 

"Rose mouthwash?"

He smiled. The cocksucker smiled. I preemptively kissed him. He gave me another peck. This wasn't going to work.

He looks at me. Now, don't take this wrong, because this was not Oedipal, but it was like Charity's Mother Stare, not the scary one that the FBI wants but the caring one that makes me think the eternal flame is frozen over. Actually, the FBI might get more from it, but I'm sure ninja nuns are against the Geneva Convention. I tell him why this isn't going to work. I'm mortified.

"Got any objections to pitching?" He delicately takes the tumbler from me, takes a mouthful and rinses.

"What?!"

"You seem to be fine with kissing, being blown, frottage and object to giving fellatio or receiving."

"You switched sports."

"Focus, if you would. It's not a problem, I just want to set my expectations."

Garters if I didn't believe him. "Not objections." I couldn't imagine it. I had a hard time getting women.

"Promising. Shower?" He kissed me and hot water and no dropped soap. We even got a shave. That was scary, safety razor or no.

Watching him turn back into Marcone, Gentleman Johnny was like a snake eating, fascinatingly disturbing. Walk of shame time.

"Casual clothes." He pointed at a door in his dressing room. Which was better or worse? I went with the clean clothes. I wasn't sure why this button down was casual, but nothing else looked likely for the jeans I spied. Good thing for belts. Loose. Everything was loose and a bit short. I rolled up the sleeves to hide that they didn't reach my wrists.

We went downstairs and Hendricks got up from the table.

"Finish your breakfast."

"I will." He picked up his plate. "Usual?"

"Thank you. Harry, what do you want?"

"Waffles?" I think they had a conversation. They could do that in a few flicks of the eye. I was still stuck on earlier. I couldn't figure out why Marcone would want me, would go down on me, would offer? me sticking it to him, he could have women. I didn't understand why he built a keep on the boarding house's site when he could hardly bother to hear me out when I needed help for Maggie. Contrition? "Why did you come for me?"

"Chicago needs you."

Now, I've know John a long time, ever since he had me hustled to his car. Romantic. I could tell that despite the cold delivery, he was more sure of his statement than the blood in his veins.

"What about before I broke my back? Did Chicago need me then?" I was angry. Too little, too late was the story of my life. It was ungrateful, but he could have kept me from becoming the Winter Knight, kept me from selling out Molly. What he did stopped me short. He closed his eyes.

Hendricks brought in food. A lot of food, almost a staggering amount. What did Marcone eat for breakfast? One 'plate' was set before him, the rest flanked me, a platter of waffles, chicken fried steak, some sort of fruit relish and bacon in pride of place. I set to eating, watching John with his small piece of fish, yogurt, stiff porridge, and stewed fruit. I ate a swath through the hashbrowns, eggs, cheesy things, as well as my waffles.

"The Red Court's moves were disrupting all of Western Hemisphere crime. I had winners and losers to pick, and the constellations were constantly changing. You keep beating the odds. I misjudged."

It wasn't an apology, it was something much rarer. "Yeah." I make mistakes, big ones.

"Would you come to dinner? I've got business to attend to, and you have people to see."

"Yes." In the past I'd have thrown the invitation back at him like the long ago mate to the glove I wear on my left hand. Maybe we've both grown.

I decided that I'd best talk to Murphy first as the least complicated. I wasn't ready for Charity. I would never be ready for her and Michael. Since she'd turned down getting her job back with the force, I went ahead and called her from the mansion.

"Sorry about earlier. Coming back from the dead is a lot of work "

"Harry," She said some other things, they don't bear repeating.

"The same." We hashed out meeting up and I cradled the phone. Even with Hendricks as opposed to the el, I didn't have time to go back to the condo. I suppose it might cut out some questions.

He'd walked away. I didn't know what John paid for his intel, but between that and the journey itself he'd been in his rights to claim restitution. Trespasses and all that, I suppose. It made no sense. Him... Me-- No sense. Him offering, why?

Karrin launched herself at me. She's harder now, I missed the plumpness she'd had as a beat cop, when I was learning the PI ropes. I'm harder too. I held onto her. It felt wrong and I didn't know why. I didn't want to admit why- she wasn't John.

"Harry?" She slipped back to the floor--she normally gave me a hard time if I picked her up. "What are you wearing?" I think she figured it out. I wasn't ashamed. I wasn't.

"Marcone brought me back, won me from Mab."

"Harry."

"Don't." I was happy. Confused. I stepped away. "I never wanted to be Winter's Knight. I needed the power, you know why. He was more effective getting me free than I'd been."

"At what price?"

I'd cost my friends dearly. And it hadn't worked. I'd spent them all so freely, unthinkingly and it hadn't worked, hadn't been enough. I thought of Shiro Yoshimo, I'd failed him, who'd given me the last full measure. "I'm not sure, but he's rich." I really didn't know if John could afford this; Mab had wanted me for a long time. She would extract that from Marcone.

"Harry."

It wasn't like that. I'd done that, Mab had taken me on the altar, broadcast my submission on every waterslick and film of bubble.

"I'm back. He wants me for Chicago." That might explain things. He hired for the Shroud of Turin, thinking he could buy a miracle. I ignored that he'd pulled me from the water with it.

She looked at the clothes I was wearing. "Chicago."

"Don't." That loosened something. I'd had a good time. I might have gotten a bit lost, less than a minute. She was looking at me, there was something different, like she was reordering evidence.

We talked, Mister showed up, jumped into my lap, his paws reminding me he could have landed a spot over and chose not to, tom to man. She had a defense class to teach, so we took our leave of each other. She hugged me again, it didn't feel as weird this time. She kissed me on the cheek. How much time had she been spending with Sanya?

I wanted to see Butters again, but he needed his sleep. I could try before his shift. Bob seemed safe where he was. It was time to see Thomas.

I know, I should have thought about how I was dressed, but I had other thoughts chasing through my head. I'd forgot about the soap I'd been starring in. The ladies had not, including several I'm sure hadn't even been there for earlier episodes. Toe-mas was washing a matron's hair when I entered.

I missed my coat. It had disintegrated after the battle for Maggie, having been the basis for my godmother's armor. Susan had given it to me, had worn it naked beforehand. My brother asked leave of his patron and an assistant took over the shampoo. I went into the back with my brother.

"Tah-dah!" What, I've been dead.

"Marcone."

It didn't need an answer. Thomas was of the White Court. "Sorry about the boat."

"About time."

He wasn't talking about the boat. I was missing something. Imagine. "What?"

He was looking at me the way someone that thought something was clever does when they realize accident was lucky that day. "Don't." He shifted, his demon surfaced and disappeared again like a wave on a mostly calm sea. "Welcome back."

There wasn't a lot to say. We're brothers. I wasn't ready to look at Eb in view of everything. So for now Thomas was still my only family. It was a little strained, we didn't hug when we parted. It would take time.

Lunch happened. I'm a little surprised that Hendricks had me show my face in public dressed as I was. The place was no Burger King, actually I couldn't read the menu but I liked what was brought to me. Meat, starch, gravy. I'm a simple man. Afterwards, Hendricks drove around. Really, he just drove all over Chicago. I think we circled most of the schools without taking in the South Side. It made sense that Hendricks enforced John's rules.

He didn't take me to Saint Mary of the Angels, the Carpenters or Father Forthill. I could do that at least wearing clothes Marcone had bought for me, not in his own clothes.

The next question was, did I want to bring Bob away from Butters? I'd wanted Mister, but the condo wasn't the boarding house. He probably got out at Murphy's whether she knew it or not. Mouse had other duties. Bob?

"That's a good look on you. Repeat as needed. Dish."

I didn't need this. There was no subbasement at the condo. Little Chicago. I mourned my construct, my artifice.

"Do repeat that. Or branch out, wouldn't want to get stale. I'm sure he knows plenty of ways--"

"Enough." I didn't want to think about how he knew how to blow me like that. I knew he'd been with Helen, which made no sense. She'd been involved in Tommy's murder and she'd sold him out to the Denarians. Had I told him about that? It hadn't been freaky that the girls that worked at Executive Priority were about an age of Amanda, the daughter she didn't know was still alive.

Butters had to leave for work and I decided Bob should stay with his internet connection. I had dinner with John after all.

He kissed me soundly. John did. My stomach rumbled. He, John, apologized. There was so much food. It was sitting on the table, I guess he knew that staff listen in. Big serving bowls and platters, huge spoons and forks that never stirred a pot, whisked an egg. What? Resale shops are the depositories of failed marriages and houses cleaned out by bicoastal relations.

I looked at the way John ate. It wasn't monastic. Race car fuel. Precise. I just fell on everything. I'd get fat. Or something slavering would show up and I'd almost die. The latter was more likely. Magic uses a lot of power, and I'm a sloppy thug of a battle wizard. I learned some finesse teaching my apprentice.

"Harry?"

Molly had idolized me, her loser boyfriend had looked something like me. She'd manipulated her friends' minds trying to get them to stop using drugs. I was looking at the source of drugs in Chicago. They weren't children. They had been. Molly would be hunted by the Council without Winter's Mantle. Eb was the Blackstaff. He'd taken me in, he was my grandfather, he was supposed to kill me if I couldn't be saved. They hadn't stepped in against Justin. He'd been a Warden. I'd taken the Grey Cloak. I asked more of my apprentice than I should.

I wasn't hungry. He rested his hand over my good one and kept eating. It was nice.

"Room for dessert?"

Turns out I did. Brownies. They had a cherry sauce, but they were brownies, dark like leather. Moist. The cherries were tart. Funny, John had whipped cream on his.

"Take me to bed." I didn't have the patience for games, flirting.

"As you wish." He fell in beside me, an arm behind my back. He kissed me in the room, unbuttoned his shirt leaving it on my shoulders. He nipped his way down and took me into his mouth. I let him do that for a bit, let him move my hands onto him, then pushed him back.

"Strip." I didn't know what we were doing, what this was, but I didn't like sex one-sided. John's sexy. He made taking off clothes interesting. We kissed some more, our erections fenced. He rooted over me like I was hiding truffles. He took my balls into his mouth, one after the other. He swallowed my cock, swallowed my come. Languid, I expected him to take his satisfaction. He rutted against my hip, flopped over in completion and drew me over him. John's hands roamed over my back, under his shirt. He brought the covers over us. He's handsy. I kissed him. Bells, what he can do with his mouth. He got me hard again, wrung me out with his hand. I slid into sleep.

I woke up mouth against his back. We'd shifted, turned. I got up, had to. Took a piss, washed my hands, brushed my teeth. Went back to bed. He turned me into the small spoon. I've a few inches on him, but he's built solid while I'm me. Serving spoon and ice tea.

He woke me by sucking my nipples. He'd started by breathing over one, licking it and well, escalated. Made me admit I was awake sucking my nipples. He slipped out of bed. I followed when I heard the shower.

We wasted water and it was fun. Good thing for fancy slate and its high traction textured surface without sharp edges or corners. He didn't dress in a suit. Was crime taking a day off?

"Casual day at the office."

Right. I'd seen him do that before. Still held himself like a boss. Normal people looked less finished without the props. He pointed me at a different drawer and I pulled it out. Clothes like at the condo. I pulled on briefs and jeans, then stole another of his shirts. He grinned.

Hendricks didn't ask what I wanted this morning. I got some fancy eggs and a plate of fruit and bacon. John seemed to have much what he'd had the day before. Apparently Hendricks was eating in the kitchen this morning, or had his breakfast earlier.

I like being with someone. I wasn't sure why this was happening, but I was okay with it. I figured that if John could deal with this to bring me back to Chicago, I didn't need to protest. I was no longer Winter's Knight. I would have done worse to free myself. I did worse to sell myself to Mab, with the power she granted.

He took his leave and I decided I needed to make a new shield bracelet. I couldn't make a new coat without it taking time, and sometimes it was better to start over. I needed to go shopping.

I might have said something to Hendricks about him having better things to do, related to me replacing the Blue Beetle. His expression should have been bottled. Now, I had always paid cash, other than those few places like McAnally's where I could run a small tab. I've on a bad day disabled entire lines of credit cards in other people's wallets. I was given a business card with a set of numbers printed on it.

"Purchase order." Hendricks then pulled out a moneyclip and stripped off some fifities and twenties and handed them to me. "For smaller places. If you use them frequently, we can arrange a line. Don't take ones."

Magic takes a lot of tools. Supplies. I'd never had to do it all at once. I think I scarred a clerk at the hardware store, what with the various pliers, files, canning jars and fishing lure parts; people knew Marcone, knew his businesses. Other people in the line had tile saws and plumbing pipe. I used one of the fifties at a rock shop and another at a beading store. The resulting fives got spent at two different consignment shops.

Apparently Hendricks was on orders that I be fed and watered regularly. It was still early afternoon when I got back to the condo. It was weird working on something without Bob commenting. I'd need to make a new staff, but talking to Eb wasn't on my top 100. I would, but I had a little time before I had to talk to Carlos. Forthill deserved me checking in on him.

I put on my bracelet. I made two. How the hell was I giving the other one to Marcone? I emptied one of the hardware sacks, let the bracelet slither down, rolled the top of the bag neatly and tied a piece of thread around it all. I ate, read for awhile and turned in. 

It was pretty early when I woke up. I wasn't getting back to sleep. I got ready for a run. Now, when you look like me, you have to figure out where to run pretty carefully. Mouse actually helped, because people like dogs. Mouse however was doing something much more important than keeping people in Chicago from seeing me as suspicious. Temple dog, angelic security system, my daughter was as safe as was possible.

She didn't need me. Actually, she needed me to stay away. I went for my run, came back, showered, and went back out. I probably made things hard on Hendricks, but he kept a foot tail on me. He's a professional, and while I wasn't still a PI or a Warden, I was Chicago's wizard and would be as long as there was breath in my body.

The Fomors had taken my 'vacation' as an invitation to an all you can eat of the minor talents. I'd backed Marcone as freeholding lord to end something similar regarding the plain vanillas. It was time for me to kick ass and chew bubblegum.

Long day. I collapsed into bed, and did it all over again. Same thing. Repeat. Yadda yadda. Somewhere in there I might have wondered if I was so forgettable to John. Shouldn't have, Hendricks told me one night as I came back to the condo to get in the car.

Now, I don't think too much surprises John and survives. Glad to be an exception. Most probably wouldn't have been able to tell he was surprised. I've shown up as a bad penny often enough to know John. I tossed the hardware bag at John. I might have expected to see him before now. He pulled on one tail of the bow.

I hadn't thought how it would look with John's fancy suits. It and my own twin bracelet looked better than my old usual. I've made them out of broken jewelry, plastic pony beads (don't, just don't)-- He put it on his left wrist. I kissed him and he burst like a dam; he plundered my mouth like a drowning man. Then we were in his room, then naked, rubbing together like our fire bow was broken. We came and John kept at me. Apparently I do command performances with the right motivation.

"Inside me."

Um. I know he'd, that conversation had been weird, okay? As was the condom packet and a tube suddenly appearing. He wanted it. He wanted me to, he wanted... It would have made more sense if I'd wilted. No, I stayed hard. I just couldn't, I tried, I thought I could work myself up to it. John had to fold me into recovery position. And yes, I still was hard. His hand on my back felt nice.

He handed me a glass of water. How he'd gotten that and into sleep pants I didn't know.

"Sip."

I followed the instruction, repeating as he nodded. When I finished he looked at me and then took it back to the bathroom. Bells what he looks like; my cock approved of the view. He returned with a hot washcloth for my face. Regular Nightingale.

"May I give you a hand?" I nodded, leaning into him. Funny how something when you do it yourself doesn't feel the same as when someone does it for you. He's good at this. I slide into sleep.

I wake up with John wrapped around me, until his arm moves. Right, reflexes. I go take a whiz, brush my teeth and pull on boxers before getting back into bed. Part octopus, John has to be given how he wraps around me. I like it. He kisses my back where it meets my neck. I might be getting the picture. He walked away. He came for me then walked away. He wants me. I knit my fingers between his, close my hand over his. Love.

John Marcone, the former Gino, loved me. I know, he'd said it, but he is a criminal, he does lie. "How long?"

"Since I met you."

That was patentedly untrue. Sweet, but false.

"More every time you put my heart in my throat. Lemmings have better instincts."

Stones and stars. "You flatterer."

"Hardly. I don't keep regular hours, and I don't expect you to come when called, but Nathan will mutiny if we don't manage better. Ideas?"

"Maybe." I thought about last night. John petted me, cherished me. I. Yeah, guess he wasn't the only one. "You're a piece of work, too."

"Yes, Harry."

I had to kiss him. I did kiss him. He's very good at it, which you'll never know first-hand. He's also good at making boxers disappear. The things he can do; I've had sex that was less thrilling than John rolling me about.

He got up, I opened an eye and he was leaning over me, gave me a kiss. "Sleep well, Harry." John was dressed. I went back to sleep. I'd been the Winter Knight, tiger burning bright might be savage tooth and claw, but fairer than many things mortal and not.

Later I actually woke up. Hungry. I did the decent thing though and took a shower, got dressed and headed downstairs. As I'd thought, Hendricks appeared as if summoned. "Kitchen still open?"

"Sit." Hendricks went into the kitchen.

I looked around instead. The room wasn't exactly decorated by the yard, it wasn't that crass. It was bespoke and it was bloodless, which is more unusual than you might think. Everything was the créme of skilled workers, and nothing was art. Nothing burled, nothing antique, it was a very stark room. A precise façade.

I sat down sorta before Hendricks returned, though he scowled at me like I was up to no good. Wasn't like there was silverware laying about, the candlesticks were too big for pockets (though they would make a good weapon in the library).

I realized as I ate that I had to see the Carpenters today. Charity would be the easier, since I deserved everything she'd dish out. Michael. I'd tried to save Molly and then I got low and didn't care who I hurt, who I took down with me. The question was how to see them and not see Maggie. I didn't want anything tracing her to me, taking my pound of flesh from her.

"Nathan." I didn't mean to say that. "Cujo" wasn't funny anymore. "I need to see the Carpenters today. Do you know their schedules?" He nodded. I wasn't sure how one could be non-verbally laconic, but Hendricks managed. Just as he almost didn't hitch when I used his name.

I wondered just how John was managing without his right hand though I supposed with technology proximity wasn't as neccessary. Anyway, I had some other errands to run, so I just told him and let Hendricks sort it out.

Michael was a retired Fist of God, which just meant he had more time now for his day job, as a carpenter and contractor. Yes, you guessed it, Charity had spent years as a contractor. I didn't realize that it was Michael we were headed to until I heard the spit-retorts of nailguns and the whine of power saws. There are a lot of home offices in the circles I run, the fly-tying, candle-dipping, train set terrain... And Mort.

I got out of the car, watched it pull away. I headed towards the noise, avoiding powercords as I saw them getting closer. Michael retired as a Fist of God because of me. I waved him to take my extraction, and he got shot being reeled into the helicopter. Yes, he was fighting Denarians, yes that's what the Knights of the Swords did. But they'd taken Marcone and they'd taken Ivy. They'd taken Marcone to lure the Archive out. He was doing better, but he still had a weak side that you could see in his stance.

"Hi, Michael." His hearing protection was good, so I had to repeat myself in a moment.

"Welcome back." He turned, stepped away from the saw, waving someone over to take his place.

I should have come to talk to him sooner.

"Are you going to see her?"

"Charity is next, depending on traffic."

"I meant Margaret."

I'm slow, I'll admit that, didn't get my key turned enough. I was confused and then was glad my mouth wasn't fully wound either. Maggie. "It's safer that I don't." Not the correct answer, though Michael reined his disapproval quickly. It was. Bad things dogged me. I slaughtered her mother, just as I'd killed my own. "Has there been trouble?"

"We're watched over."

Probably trouble, since handled. I decided I'd best let him get back to work and see Charity next. 

She let me in. As I stepped over the threshold I felt my magic pulled like taffy. I was still connected to it, but it was held. Charity didn't invite me in, and I approved. I'd been the Winter Knight and that was not to be trusted.

"Sit." She headed back towards the kitchen. It had been so long since I'd been here. I had spent so long avoiding here while I had Lash in my head. Maybe I would have noticed Molly coming into her magic. Maybe she could have apprenticed to a better wizard; the Doom made people chary.

Cake. Charity brought me cake. This must be the new way to good cop, bad cop solo. It had to be a lie, but it was a tasty one.

"She'll be home in an hour."

I exhaled. I was surprised she'd wasted valuble berating time on pleasantries. I looked around for Mouse, thinking I could at least help Charity that much.

"He goes with her."

I looked at her surprised.

"Therapy animal." She looked at me. It was the compassion I normally found with Michael. I found it even more difficult from her.

"You know that Michael saved me from a dragon, that I turned my back on magic. Don't you think I should have seen the signs? I didn't, but that doesn't mean they weren't there. You took me to Arctis Tor, you stood with me as I fought for her, you stood for her before the Council."

And I asked her to break one of the Laws, I asked her to abet me in what she'd consider a sin.

"Molly made choices. We have all made bad choices at times, and forgiving that fact in oneself and in others is hard. I am sorry that you were in that position, that I was not more aid to you. I am sorry I've not been a good friend to you. Going up a ladder with a broken leg, Harry?"

"They couldn't hear. Place was on fire because of me, I had to get them out."

"Stay. Visit with Maggie."

"Michael called her Margaret."

Charity smiled, it was a watery one. "He called Molly that too at first. At school she's Margaret." She looked just to the right of me. "There are things that we can't change and there are things we can. Stay."

\---------------------------

"Harry." John got up from his chair. That was handy, since I needed a hug. Funny thing that, I needed a hug to recover from a hug. I think John was also checking me for injuries.

I have a daughter. She remembered me. I had stayed as Charity asked. Maggie was cute in her uniform. Clean. Maggie was clean. That may sound like a small thing, but the first time I saw her she'd been held several days by the Red Court and they only needed her alive for the sacrifice, not well-cared for. They had slaughtered an entire family to take her, the mother, father, siblings that she knew. Susan and I, we were her parents, but those had been her parents too, her sisters and brothers.

They'd taken the daughter I didn't know I had to extinguish the grandfather I didn't know who was. The White Council's Blackstaff, Eb McCoy. The Laws? He doesn't have to obey them.

Mouse gave one lick to my hand in greeting. I've seen some art in my day, I don't have a problem with paint, it's pretty old as technology goes. Mouse adored my daughter right along with any Master's angels. I knew that he had at least as much power. I scritched his ears for old time's sake.

She just looked at me. It's not hard for me to avoid the eyes of people that much shorter than myself. I wanted to see hers, but I couldn't risk it. My soul was nothing fit for a child. I was scared of the scars hers bore.

Maggie took my hand. She pulled down gently and I folded. It was okay, I had practice with the young Carpenters, and I was still taller. We played with blocks. She built a pyramid, a stepped pyramid.

She hugged me. I had started crying and she hugged me. Mouse did too, one forepaw over my shoulder as he sat watching.

And now I was here, and John was holding me. I held onto him even tighter than I had to the Shroud.

\--------------------

I needed to go to the island. I'd had a rough day or two, you'd be amazed how a warm bed and hot showers speeds emotional recovery. Shaky. I might admit I wasn't one hundred percent. The pull of the genus loci was strong.

I went to the condo and I called Thomas, since the Water Beetle was the way I had for going out there. I didn't really want to see where I'd bought it, but closure is supposed to be good, right?

"You've got to be kidding. Once it wasn't a crime scene, I sold it. You know who to talk to for all your marine needs." Now, don't think him unbrotherly, we did talk more. I didn't want to ask John about getting out to the island. The island where he'd been tortured. He'd bantered about the lighthouse, but I'd led with his castle. John never shows a weakness, never halts because of a soft spot. You have to fall through the tiger and he will jump down after you like a steel trap.

I appologized about the Water Beetle and hung up. I did some chores, I don't have fairy cleaning here. I died, and more importantly I was Winter's Knight. The wyldefae would stay away from me like gingerbread from foxes. I ate. I would have to shop the next time I came over. Part of me thought of hiding out here, but it was overruled. I liked John entreating my attention, and I liked him just joining me in sleep. I liked waking up with him at hand. We were in love. That just amazed me.

I went out and got into the car Hendricks was waiting in. "Home." John. John defined home now. Sadly he wasn't there, and didn't expect to be back for dinner. I wondered just when he'd installed the heavy black phone I took his call on. I ate, like he wanted me to do. Afterwards I read for awhile and I even used a proper bookmark. I went to bed once I was tired.

I looked over my shoulder as I came awake. What-- It was John, just standing there. A spark ran down my spine to my toes. I rolled over. "Strip."

He did. John grinned, unknotted his tie, took out his cufflinks and shed his clothes. He was in the bed, hands under my tee, before his shirt settled on the floor. Teasing, he was teasing me. Bells if he wouldn't let me get naked. Shouldn't be possible for him to be sexier. I kissed him. He gets so distracted kissing, which is unsurprising the way he does it. Thorough. I was able to shove my boxers down, then pull on his ass. The friction of us skin to skin was so much better than, yes, he finally took off my tee.

I held his thighs, his hand still around my cock from rolling down the condom. My tongue was thick as I realized he'd been riding his fingers when I thought he was so hot. "No." He let go of me and dismounted. I was still hard. "Why?" John really wanted shafted. I found the lube and slicked the condom. "Hands and knees."

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. "Are you ready?" I drove into him slow, achingly slow just to be sure I wasn't hurting him, sure that he wanted this. Tight. I stayed bottomed out inside him until moving was mandatory. Slow. I dragged my teeth down his neck along his spine as I pulled back, out, shoved back in, increasing the length of my strokes.

The saliva of the Red Court was addictive. They could do anything with a human. They hadn't been able to drink my blood; that had made them mad. It had been the only thing that'd saved my life, not that I much wanted it after.

I was careful. I didn't know why John liked this; I gave him what he wanted. Fucking him felt good. Why would he want this? The Red Court had done this and more to me, had made me like it.

There was no more Red Court. They tried to kill me, kill my family and I killed them all. I'd killed Susan. John came and I followed, slumping over him. Why had he wanted this?

\--------------

I showered in the morning and went down for breakfast. I was wearing some of 'my' clothes today. I was surprised to see John, finishing his breakfast.

"Morning, Harry." He smiled at me and took a few quick bites. "Dinner tonight?"

"Sure." I sat down, wondering how he was so, Marcone. Last night hadn't changed him. My breakfast came in, waffles, poached eggs, some sort of vegetables and bacon. Apparently Hendricks no longer was on breakfast duty. I wasn't sure if she was the cook or the cook's helper. I was pretty much forbidden to get too close to the fridges, freezers, microwaves, coffeemaker and what all. I looked at John.

"Enjoy your breakfast."

I swallowed, and got my kiss. That right there was proof it was love, not that he went deep. I grabbed a strip of bacon once he pulled away. I chewed as he walked away.

\------------------

Now, if it had been my old luck, trouble would have come calling that day. As it was that didn't happen for a few days, and it started slow. Well, compared to the usual hot and heavy trouble has for me. What can I say, I'm irresistible.

It was the Fomor. Marcone had allied with the White Court and together they'd been able to keep them at the edges and out of the marinas. Listen up. Don't eat Teamsters. I found a leather coat I'd never seen John wear and magicked it up. Talk about wolf in sheep's clothing, it was like shearling, but without the raw exterior seams. I know, I'd been back awhile, I'd been busy. It probably was a driving coat for some glove of a convertible and it didn't cover my legs.

I think the National Guard got called. I know that a tank was involved. Marcone somehow made a speedboat not just sputter out with me aboard. It was a running battle. I really should have gotten out to Demonreach earlier. Hindsight.

Even Lara didn't look fresh after it was done and said. This wasn't the War, and this meant I needed to pull a rabbit out of a hat and I hate hats.

Demonreach it was. I looked over the Mary Ellen, struck me as an odd name for John to choose. I knew this boat, it was the Water Beetle painted and whatever else you do when overhauling a boat. "John?"

"Later."

Right. Other fish to fry. I should explain one thing about Demonreach, which is an island in Lake Michigan, and that is that it's not on the charts. Someone tried establishing a cannery out there, and they got the buildings built and probably held on for a few years. Maybe they were just that hard-pressed or the genus loci that distracted. Trees grow through the rotting buildings. John got us underway, and I wondered just who he might have been if he'd not been one of Vargassi's buttonmen, if Marco hadn't shot Amanda in a park. Could John have left Chicago, started over?

There's not a lot of magic I can do surrounded by this much water. That was probably best for the engines. Even so I stayed away from the helm. I'd been dead, or close enough to.

John made very good time. I'd been able to pilot the Water Beetle but it'd been a point and go sort of thing. John didn't fight Lake Michigan.

So, once again there was a battle to the death on Demonreach and the island won. Don't bet against the house, kids. Now, that's not to say the woods weren't wrecked, or that there weren't fires to put out. Gard somehow managed to cut a Way to bring in mercenaries, mortal and otherwise, and Lara had a chopper and more of the White Court landed on the beaches. I feared the Coast Guard wouldn't have much it could accomplish until new men and women came.

Someone thought snacking on Gentleman Johnny Marcone, Baron of Chicago was a good idea. White Court out of towners. They looked like a fritter until Thomas kicked it and the ash blew away in a directionless wind. "Oh." There was a lot of clean up to do, burning Fomor corpses on the beach. I can get green wood to burn.

"What?" Thomas had been looking between me and John oddly. Lara and the rest of the White Court had headed out, as had the mercenaries, leaving just Outfit people, me, my brother and Gard. Was she sweet on Hendricks?! That.

"Does he know?"

"Know what? Who?" Thomas is my older brother, half-brother, but really why quibble. We're both my mother's sons. He got five years with her, I inherited her magic. The important thing is that as a big brother he sometimes kept me in the dark. Like now.

I checked the cottage and the lighthouse. My repairs had held, and my little cache of possessions was still here. I'd brought food; the Mary Ellen was fully stocked, and I'd sort of brought her.

"Harry." I turned to John. Who wasn't so grey at the temples, who looked younger at the corner of his eyes, around his mouth. Bells I was tired from the fight. "I'll let Nathan know to go with the rest."

That night we just slept, wrapped around each other. John is John is John. Funny thing was, I didn't have nightmares either. Maybe victory is the best revenge, and it's great hot.

John is a morning person, which would annoy if I didn't wake with my cock in his mouth. I might have protested when he pulled off. He lay on his back and I felt a tube and a packet on my bare chest. He was hard, his legs slightly bent, and looking at me expectantly. I was gobsmacked but not nauseated; I wasn't going to vomit. I moved over him, bracketing his head with my forearms. I kissed him, aligned our cocks together. His hands moved over my back and we made love.

The next time I woke there was food, and John was wearing clothes. Can't win them all. I sat up, pooling the covers over my lap. I was handed a sweatshirt; it's an island, I was chilly.

"Not that the view wasn't distracting." John was a sweet talker. A liar, but sweet. "Tell me."

He's also incisive. I didn't know how to say it. How it felt wrong, disrespectful, like I was unmanning him. It hadn't, I'd rode him hard and he'd still been Marcone in the morning. It didn't make sense. It hadn't been like that--

"When? Who?" I knew right then he'd kill for me. I knew that, but this wasn't about Chicago. This wasn't measured.

"Dead. Killed 'em." I think he might have looked a little green. It passed too quickly if he had. I shoveled food. I still saw him try to fold part of himself and store it. "Tell me why you like it." I've seen his soul, it looks like Mayflower meets the Borg in there. I don't want to be the reason for boxes.

"Sometimes it is better to receive than give. I can't explain it better. It's not that I can't do without."

He'd been tight. Look, I didn't know much about it, but he had been. I managed not to say anything about sitcom dads or football coaches. "You're machismo."

John laughed. Stars if he didn't look younger. "It's true. You're such a man."

He arched a brow, and that still made me envious. "Guess I need to get you into the next inclusivity training. Which version would you prefer, Outfit or corporate?" He kissed me, somehow not disturbing any of the food. "Later. Vargassi wouldn't have agreed, but notice which of you is alive. Taking cock doesn't make anyone more or less of a man. Eat up, I'll be outside."

I did, washed up and got dressed. I went out to find John. I made sure to make noise. He's got the reflexes you'd expect of a man who took Chicago. "Probably not corporate. What's an inclusivity training?" I slipped my left arm around him. I felt better with my right free.

He started walking. "Sure? You could take out a lot of electronics." I mock-glared, he let it drop.

"How long?" I didn't want to know who had had Johnny, or Gino, last. Mine. He was mine.

"Before the Park."

Three years before I came to Chicago. "Why?"

"You aren't the only one that thinks that. I had a city to control." I'd hit a nerve. He didn't say more but I could tell he was thinking or feeling it.

"You've been in control a long time."

"Try not to get yourself killed."

I nodded. Being that open had cost him. I think I've cost him a lot over the years and I don't mean insurance premiums. "Is this going to be a problem? I mean, that you've got a boyfriend?"

"It's been rumored for some time."

Oh. I picked up a rock and threw it.

"You are more than that."

I kissed him. I knew it, I was good with it, I didn't want to talk about it. Not yet, not here. I pulled back. John had been middle-aged when I got to Chicago, and it had been a decade or change since. "How old are you?" I don't really self-censor.

He arched the other eyebrow, and I'm pretty sure he was showing off. His crowsfeet were almost gone. I needed Bob. "We should head back to Chicago." I understood why the vampire had roasted, but John getting younger... I needed to know if he was going to regress back to a kid. And stop it; I didn't need a twentysomething Marcone; younger was unthinkable. "You've been getting younger since that vampire tried snacking on an ally." Lara had tried the same thing on me once, worse than Szechuan lipstick. I use Bob for this sort of math, I left the sliderule in Missouri. I might have overheated the metal.

Now Butters works the night shift, and Bob was at his place, so that's how John and I ended up at the coroner's. Butters gave John the key. He also shook both of our hands. Bob was going to be a riot.

"Hello! Harry, that's impressive, you screwed years right off suave, dark and criminally handsome. Unrelieved tension is a silent killer; either of you screamers?"

"One of the White Court tried feeding on him." I was going to wait to die several of a thousand deaths from Bob's prurient patter.

"How burned was it?"

"Ashes to ashes."

"Hot, I'm impressed you two can wear clothes. Don't let me stop you if you're inspired."

I risked looking at John, whose expression was a do not pierce cocktail of repressed laughter, startlement and something smouldering that looked promising. 

"Bob."

"The energy had to go somewhere, and roasting a vampire builds a conduit."

"Is he going to get any younger?" As soon as I asked I was afraid what he'd say.

"Wrong diagnosis. He got his vitality topped off."

I wanted to understand the distinction, but John had other thoughts requiring answers. "How did I burn it?"

"White Court feed on lust." I might not have been ready on Demonreach, but it would be better coming from me that I loved him.

"Strong emotions, " Bob corrected me. "Though lust appeals they can feed on fear as well. Not love though, it's toxic to them." The orange fires slowed. "Should have recognized a poison beef."

Took a lot for John's eyebrows to synchronize. Being classed as prey, and domesticated cattle at that, counted. "Vitality?"

"Vavavroomoom. This is just an ephemeral bonus to the real benefit. May I suggest working through a few chapters of the extended Kama Sutra?"

John chuckled.

"Oh, oooh, Harry, go with your advanced study partner, naughty! That, make sure you do that Harry, really, hit the sheets you two. Flip on the Glade plug in before you go."

John seemed to know what Bob meant, and his smile was filthy and warm. I mean like other people could tell what he was thinking, not just me.

I pulled John out of the apartment. Damn it, we needed to get the key back to Butters.

"Nathan can return the key to him, or meet him here after his shift."

I nodded. I'm a terrible friend. "What did, no, that's got to be a closed doors explaination."

"Agreed."

Note. Hendricks almost always drives because popping 'hired muscle' from moving violations is standard operations for the Outfit, should it come to that. Nuns drive faster than John. I think some people wet themselves realizing who they flipped off for obeying traffic laws. Okay, I was a bit worried for them.

John shook his head just slightly. Oh. Right. The scariest monster is the one you don't see, and torture is in the mind of the torturee. Not that the monsters I see aren't bad. I make it a habit to stick them with ridiculous names for a reason. I don't listen to spooky radio plays.

He drove us right to the front doors and got out with the car still running. He didn't open my door, but he did shut it for me.

"This isn't your bedroom."

"Perceptive as always." He locked that door louder than should be possible. He crowded me back against the desk, and he kissed me, peeling my clothes from me like I was a grape. "Sit." John dropping to his knees and oyster diving my balls--he eased one of my legs over his shoulder, sole on his 'blade, folded me like a interstate map. Mallets and tongs I was hard and so was John's face. I needed my hands on him, wanted in his mouth, thirsted to come. He did something and he swallowed my spurting cock. He wrung me dry, I slumped back and he lowered me to the desk, pulled my leg down.

I still don't know how he sheds his clothes so fast. The desk was smoother than glass and most of my height is in my spine. I was bare-assed turtled and that was a fine thing indeed. His teeth scraping my Adam's apple shouldn't be hot, which probably took it higher. He moved around the desk somehow. Him twisting my nipples like he was getting pirate radio didn't help me come down, to gel. He kissed me, tongue riding scout. It was new, upside down made it weird and thrilling.

He clasped his hands over mine then fucked into them, eating my mouth. He could do anything with me and he was content with my palms, burnt one and all. I was weeping, my cock was weeping, I was so hard. I writhed, I flexed my feet against the solid wood. "John!"

He came. John stroked my hands, rubbed them with strong thumbs. Displacement.

"I'd like you in me." He'd rounded the desk again. My cock approved the proposal. I struggled to sit up without smearing my hands on the desk. I clasped onto his shoulders. "Can you without me on my back?" Mab had taken me that way

He could. He wrapped one arm around me as he straddled me, knees and thighs either side of my legs, his right hand carefully rolling down a condom and more quickly opening himself. Brass bells he took it full bore, he arched like a bow pulled taut. It was all I could do to make sure he didn't fall back doubled on himself or off the desk entirely. He strained like a thoroughbred.

Searing, my release was searing. He kissed me softly, gently as he pulled off and dealt with the rubber. He pulled me to the couch, spreading a blanket over us.

He shifted us later, helping me into my pants long enough to shamble off to bed and then pulled them back off. I watched him remove his own. Yeah. He slid into bed beside me, and that was even better, warmer.

It was not breakfast in bed when I woke. John has this table in his bedroom and there was food, I supposed brunch. John was dressed, but not in a way I'd seen him. I used the bathroom and took in details better on my return, having grabbed fresh boxers on the way back. I might like endless clean clothes.

He was smiling when I joined him. I smiled back. What we had worked. I filled my plate, and noticed what John was eating. He'd probably explain it, there were skipped meals because of the the fight, and it's not exactly low energy pushing back an invasion.

"That's a good look."

I almost said it was something I just threw on, since I was mostly in my birthday suit.

"I like your smile."

\------------------

"Murphy?" I looked at the carrier sitting on the ground next to her on the other side of the gate. I saw her bike and wondered how fast Mister would launch himself once the door was opened.

"I'm leaving town for awhile, I've taken up the Sword." It was one of the Swords of the Cross, supposedly it had one of the Nails included in the hilt. Sanya had been stretched thin as he became one of two and then sole current, when once there had been three Knights.

Murphy is cute, I need to say that, she barely comes up to my chest. Evil didn't have a chance, she's that tough. The guards I think knew that, they wouldn't open the gate. They needed an expert to clear the delivery, it was above their pay grade.

She was looking things over with a gimlet eye. It probably looked bad, me with my hands on the wrought iron of the gate. It was just there to make people think twice about ruining their car. Other beings might take a bit more pause. "Murphy, I'm good. Thanks for looking after Mister. Call, write."

She hugged me. There was some spot rain. I watched her mount her bike and ride off. There was a partial bag of chow on top of the carrier. I bent down to look at Mister through his wire grid door. I popped the latch and he ran through the gate and between my legs, headbutting one in his aggravation before seeking to terrorize the squirrels and rabbits. I picked up the bag, and headed back for the house.

\---------------------

I kept busy. Actually, I had more to do now than when I was a P.I. Wizard. Special Investigations never called me in, but I didn't have to attempt their paperwork, and I still found out things that might or might not be my side.

Mostly I slept at the Mansion. My cat was there, and while people wouldn't let him go hungry, there was a reason I'd brought him home years ago. So I'd visit the condo when I was in the area, sometimes nap, or change clothes, grab a few books, reshelve some. Eat if it was a weird hour.

Hendricks had vetted two deputies. Drivers, combat ready. He's working on his dissertation. I know. I wondered how he'd gotten here too, even looking the part. Let me tell you one secret. Marcone might make the trains run on time, metephorically, but it's Hendricks that makes sure John stays on his rails.

Maybe I do too. I took him on his back. I'm surprised that as much as he likes it he did without for so long, but then people have thought the same about me in between girlfriends. You know what I mean.

He'd known that Helen was shopping him, just didn't know that included to the Denarians. She's dead now. I try to believe he didn't order it. I killed Susan, so I can't judge.

"If I were gay, that would have been a problem, but plenty of gay men sleep with women, generally their wives." That was his sole explaination about sleeping with Helen, as opposed to why, namely it was the closest he could keep an enemy.

I ended up going through inclusivity training twice. Different instructors, no one knew. I understand the power of Names, but identity and some of that is too much like philosophy, like mundane alchemy. Hendricks has been leaving books for me in the backseat when he drives. I read those at the condo.

I like looking John in the eye while I take him apart, and I like being on top. Not that the rest is bad, other than my Mab related one-eyed bronco problem. John probably can reprogram that for me.

Then again, he might like sliding under my chassis too much to spare the trouble. And the way he snaps his hips...

\---------------------

I was not prepared to see John weighed down by thirty pounds of Mister. Oh, the tribulations of fogging film. He was wearing one of his particularly expensive suits. "Say it."

"Never aim at something that isn't expendable." He did look down at Mister whom he was petting. If his tail hadn't been ripped off as a kitten, Mister would have been lashing it in feline bliss. John looked up, right at me. "Bond is no you, Harry."

I know I'm just a thug wizard, but I don't know how John had hid this from me. Oh, I suppose I might have been distracted by stalker Wardens, murderous lycanthropes, and slavering beasts wanting me as brisket. I sat down beside John and wrapped an arm around him.

I should have more trouble with this. I've been Winter's Knight. Marcone isn't the greater evil, even taking my 'side' out of the equation. He kills to maintain order. He maims to teach lessons. He supplies vices and his every profit is a theft. Chicago is safer for John, because of Marcone's Outfit. I've read what Vargassi's operation was like, but I hadn't lived his Chicago. John puts down his mad dogs and lets crime feed on self-selected victims.

I know, it sounds like the Sidhe if they had a moral compass, however skewed. Mine was skewed too. Fair fights favor the strong, and people need every dirty trick they can latch onto, because Johnny scruples but the teeth in the dark just Want and rend.

It's why his more trusted men and women (and yeah, he's got a lot of guntoting women on the payroll) are a charmed bunch. Even killers deserve a defense when they're circled sharp side out around the wagons.

\----------------------

John was running late. I know, that never happens, which mostly means that like a cat he convinces you he's arrived exactly when he planned. I knew that he was taking a meeting, and no powertools were involved. Our system is imperfect.

We had plans, plans that I was looking forward to. I wanted to make them. So I interupted his meeting. Now, you might think that when your lover is talking to the Russians and the Japanese, and the drive-in is having an event, the latter should just slide.

John has picked up a few tells that only I inspire. Yeah, I'd be getting lucky tonight. "These gentlemen wasting your time?" I was wearing the coat and my bracelet was shook out. Mostly I thought I'd need them for Hendricks. 

"I wouldn't say that." What John meant was that I'd be getting a call from the Oxford Dictionary about the usage of the word gentleman, plural, since these were Yakuza and members of the Russian mob.

"Don't have to, and it's not your time as of fifteen minutes ago." I looked at the questionable men in question. Two of them spoke, and none of the translators repeated it in English. I have a smattering of Russian phrases but it was a Japanese comprehension potion I'd drank before coming over. "This is what I love about you, John, your cordial associates." He'd not said anything particularly untrue, if he did confound subject and direct object.

Hendricks cleared the room. When that much buzz-cut muscle moves suddenly people pay attention. I paid attention, and I was left with John.

"Say it again."

"It's not your time as of fifteen minutes ago. Though now it's more like twenty, but if you stay dressed as you are we'll be fine." They'd run over by three hours. I wasn't getting there too late for a good parking spot. Hendricks was supposed to be driving; Gard was meeting him and he'd slip into her car for the movie.

"Your cordial associates."

"Not really what I love about you, scumbag." If John was driving we needed to leave now. I like nachos. Oh, that's why Hendricks evacuated everyone like a bomb drill. I grabbed his hand and squeezed. Hadn't I said that before? I get pretty loose lipped during sex. I kissed him and he moved into my mouth. The movies, not so important.

He hustled me down the stairs to the garage and opened the rear door for me and then the driver's, slipping behind the wheel. He put on a cap from the glove compartment and somehow made his suit look much cheaper than it was. He drove like a bat escaping hell.

We got to the drive-through, he tuned in the audio on the radio, and got out of the car. Hat and jacket were tossed to the passenger seat. He slipped into the backseat with me after returning from the concession stand. He rubbed my hair just above my nape while eating popcorn.

He let me enjoy the movies, and my Coke, and the junk food. I couldn't read him. He'd have had to have known. It wasn't like I wasn't in love before I realized I was. John's faster at noticing things like that.

Gard got into the driver's seat when the final credits had run, and the coming attractions replayed. That's the other thing, Hendricks is a coward. I'm less certain if that's about seeing John and I playing tonsil hockey, or crossing Gard. No shame in fearing a woman with an axe, much less a godess. He was doing well not being turned into a hart.

We got back to the Mansion, Gard opened the door and Marcone got out offering me his hand. I stroked his wrist before I got out. We swung around the front of the car.

Only the offices downstairs have doors, that and the kitchen. The various parlors, breakfast, dining and whatever else rooms don't. He sat on the desk, more of a lean really.

"I love you." I did, had for awhile, more than awhile, since I was in love before I knew it. "I love your green eyes, even when they are the color of dollar bills." Oh, guess I never said that either. "I love your hands, not just the ammo you pass." Try being pinned down, you do love new ammo, loving it even more as it leaves. I might have gotten distracted by 'pinned down'. He arched one brow.

I smoothed a fingertip over it. "Love this." The other one arched. "It too." I got a chuckle, and better he wrapped his arms around me. I cinched them a bit tighter.

"May I take your coat?" Yeah, I loved this too about John, I just grinned. He took it off my shoulders and hung it up. He poured us drinks. I sipped.

"I, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, love you, Gentleman Johnny Marcone, Baron of Chicago." Just as I thought I might need to make sure a cat hadn't gotten his tongue, he took a drink and sat his glass down. He took mine too, clasped my hands.

"I love you, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden."

I did kiss him then, because I wasn't accepting such a chaste press of lips as from our elopement. Bells if he didn't dip me, garters and guns. He held me there, exhausting our breath. He had me back upright before I could pull him down with me on his Oriental rug. John's distracting.

You can conjure with a true name. He put my glass back into my hand, and raised his own, clinked them together. His nom de guerre was the tiger's stripes. John drank and I did too.

We made it to bed. That wasn't through my lack of trying, the desk has been very good to me. John's persuasive though. We got naked and he licked the back of my knees. Flat on my back and he's creating new erogenous zones on me. He did that, he's nipped each knob of my spine. I press my heels into the meat of his back, encouraging him up. I need his mouth on mine, need his weight on me, our cocks rubbing together. I like carding my fingers through his hair. The salt is losing as his hair grows and the barber trims it. John flips us. I kiss down his neck and chest to one nipple and then the other. I think about going for his navel, but that seems a little cruel, too much like a promise I'm not cashing. I squeeze John's cock, twisting my hand as I stroke. I touch his abs with my other hand, my scorched hand.

We finish with me back on my back. I like arching in completion, lifting John. Makes it easy when he decides he wants to clean us up. He waits awhile, but he does slip out of bed before I'm asleep. I roll him half under me after he's returned the washcloth to the bathroom.

\-----------

"You got to straighten things out with them?" I moved over to the patch of bed John had left.

"If they've not already called in their acceptance of terms to Nathan, they can stew and I'll increase the price I charge them."

That surprised me. I looked up as John came back. "See something you like?" He looked fond. He got back into bed and I approved of how he wrapped himself around me. This was good. "You settling in?"

"That a problem?" His hands were casing me.

Getting handsy without too much intent was nice. "I might get hungry."

He chuckled. "That we can deal with."

I kissed him on the cheek. He'd shaved already, that was promising, for later.


End file.
